


Antiquity's Corollary

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action, Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-04
Updated: 2006-06-04
Packaged: 2019-01-19 21:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12418173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: There are many questions as to what lies ahead for Harry, but of all the scenarios he would have imagined, he never expected this one. When Severus is forced to confront the pain he had forever buried, will he be able to move past it for Harry's sake? Will either one of them want him to? Notslash. 6thyear.





	1. An Unexpected Warning

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

Chapter 1

An Unexpected Warning

AN: Well, this is my first true Severitus Challenge. I put a lot of thought into it, and I hope that it’s all up to code, I certainly feel that it’s much better than the first chapter of my first story. 

Please read and review, it helps so much, and points me in the right direction. (I welcome criticism. As long as your negativity is constructive, I have no problem with recognizing my flaws.)

READ THIS: This will not be a Dumbledore bashing story, please do not be mislead. I love Dumbledore, and though he may not be portrayed in the best light for a short while, this will soon change, I promise. 

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, do you really think I would have had Half Blood Prince turn out that way? Ok, I might have, just for dramatic effect, but come on- do you honestly think I would be doing this for free when I have college in a few years?  

xxx

Despite the warning given to the Dursleys at the beginning of the summer, Harry’s holidays had not been, by any measure, better. 

True, he hadn’t been locked in his room, shouted at, starved, or cut off from all contact with the Wizarding world. His relatives had been forcibly decent in their conduct, and for the first week, Harry had even enjoyed the freedom of losing his temper when they began to mistreat him, taunting the Dursleys with the idea of wand bearing, robed Wizards showing up on the front pavement. After a while, however, this had grown old. Not that he wasn’t used to it by now, but after a while, it can become depressing to walk into a room and have everyone glaring malevolently at you. 

Sirius’ death had temporarily destabilized Harry. There were long periods when he would lie alone and quiet, concentrating all his effort into suppressing his grief, endeavoring to picture anything in his mind that would force the haunting image of his godfather’s form falling, with a tragic elegance only he could achieve, through the great stone arch.  Hours upon hours he spent, struggling to recall any feeling to replace the recollection of that horrible, choking sensation of grief- of being dragged away by Lupin; of sitting in Dumbledore’s office, facing the reality that Sirius was never going to return to him. Worst of all were those moments when his anger had become so intense that he’d felt as though it was closing in on him, suffocating him like a blanket of darkness. 

Then, there was the lack of information. Nothing important could be said in a letter as it could easily be intercepted, and since he had never learned Occlumency, he wasn’t really allowed to know anything that could benefit the enemy. Every letter he received seemed to be distant, formal, a simple check up. 

_Dear Harry,_

_Things are fine here; hope things are the same for you. I’ve finished all of my homework, aside for an essay Transfiguration that I’ve found in need of serious revision. O.W.L. scores arrive two weeks before term starts. Hope you aren’t putting things off. See you soon._

_With love,_

_Hermione_

That had been the friendliest letter he had received all summer. Then came Ron’s. 

_Dear Harry,_

_Business as usual, Hermione has forced me to finish most of my homework. Mum says to say hi, and told me not to tell you that we’ll be coming to rescue you at the first sign of trouble. Can’t tell you why now, but hopefully you’ll be here before long._

_Ron_

_P.S. Chudley Cannons won their game against Birmingham last week! Maybe if they make it to nationals we can go._

Those were the same quick and annoyingly vague types of letters he had been getting all summer, written in the air of tranquility, as if the most interesting thing that had happened lately was a Quidditch match. He’d received notes from Lupin, saying to be good, stay in the house, out of trouble, as usual. As if after what had happened last year, he would dare pull anything…

He had had a lot of time to think about the past year’s events over the first two weeks of summer. It still hurt to think about Sirius, to think about the fact that he was gone, and wasn’t coming back. But rather than waste time brooding over the unchangeable, Harry had decided to turn it into something more productive. 

First, he had made a few resolutions. One, he would think before he acted. His rash impulsiveness and passion for the ones he cared about had always dictated his ability to make decisions. Strangely enough, Harry had always been a fairly kind boy, despite how awfully he was treated. He had an incredible ability to love, and valued his friends above all else. He had a strong heart, he was courageous, and willing to risk anything to make things right. These were noble qualities, but sometimes, feelings got in the way of rationalization. It was for this reason he’d made the decision to always put logic and sense ahead of his emotional state, no matter how bad things got… and he knew they were going to get bad.  

Secondly, he would take his grief, his pain, every bad thought and feeling, and channel it towards determination to defeat what was ultimately the cause of all these things. He would take his anger and direct it towards the goal of eventually defeating Voldemort. 

For a short while, Harry had been distraught about the prophecy and the doom of which it foretold; he would either be murdered, or become the murderer. It had seemed, for some while, that this wasn’t much to look forward to. As his mind had cleared over time, however, he had realized that he would not be a murderer; he would finally make things better, for himself, and for his friends. And if he died, it wouldn’t really matter what happened; After all, he would be dead, and maybe, possibly, he’d be able to see Sirius again…and his parents…

These thoughts were the only thing that had kept Harry going all summer. He stayed inside the house, like a good boy, as everyone kept reminding him to be. The only place he was allowed to go to was the backyard, which was exactly where he was planning to spend this bright summer day. 

Harry knew that the Order had someone watching him at all times, and it was a strange feeling. It was hard to know that there was always another wizard, probably one he knew, within two hundred feet of him. Even harder to know was the fact that he couldn’t have contact, even just to speak with him or her, because of the ever-present fact that someone _else_ could be watching. 

What Harry didn’t know, however, was that on this particular day there was someone he knew very well watching him; but it wasn’t someone he would really enjoy talking too. In fact, he would probably have a more enjoyable conversation with a hungry dementor. 

xxx

Severus Snape sat in the very same tree that he had seen Harry chased up into by a dog as a young boy. He wasn’t particularly pleased with his current situation. He was sitting, perched like an awkward bird that had not yet learned to fly, on a thick tree branch, under a disillusionment charm. 

Dumbledore had asked him to keep watch over Harry for a short period of time, saying the only wizard left for the job was Mundungus Fletcher, whom he could never again trust. Severus had instantly regretted even showing up to the order meeting. The Dark Lord had asked him to attend the meeting, and then spend the day gathering information on Dumbledore. Severus had almost gladly taken the task. He and Dumbledore had already sat down at the beginning of the summer, and compiled a list of unimportant, irrelevant, or even untrue things for Severus to tell the Dark Lord, so usually he was able to spend these days tinkering with new potions in his lab, or relaxing at his home, as he rarely had time to do. Today, however, Dumbledore needed a favor, and Severus would grudgingly oblige. The man was the only reason he managed to stay out of Azkaban, and he had won him at least the respect of his colleagues, and Severus was grateful for that, even if he didn’t always show it. What annoyed him most was that Dumbledore knew this; the man knew everything. 

Severus’ thoughts were interrupted by the loud creaking and slamming of the back door. He looked down to see the familiar face of Harry Potter. He looked depressed, Severus noted apathetically.

xxx

Harry wandered out to the backyard, bored with staring at the four, blank walls of his room. He hadn’t received any post in days, and had even finished all his homework, with the exception of his potions essay. He was sure he wouldn’t need to turn it in; he remembered doing horribly on the exams.

He sank down onto the bench, nasty thoughts flooding his head. The exams… why had he even thought about them? He got a horrible feeling of foreboding every time he did. He was sure he had done well on his Defense against the Dark Arts exam, and Herbology, Charms, and Care of Magical Creatures hadn’t been horrible. He hadn’t even finished his astronomy exam, but then, neither had anyone else. 

Transfiguration he wasn’t sure about, he always had difficulty with that subject; nevertheless, he thought he must have done ok. Divination he’d failed- this he already knew… but then, that was the price to pay for having Trelawney as his teacher. History of Magic… the only thing he could remember about that exam was that he’d fallen asleep during it, and he had tried time and time to forget what he’d dreamt about.  

Finally, there was Potions. Tiring and requiring hours of concentration with a meticulous hand and eye one could only gain through obsession, Potions was Harry’s most hated subject. What didn’t help was that it was taught by Harry’s most hated teacher, or furthermore, that the feeling was mutual. 

“Snape,” Harry muttered, eyes narrowing in resentment. 

Up in the tree, Snape looked down at him, forehead creased in slight interest. 

On an impulse, Harry suddenly picked up the nearest rock and threw it, full force, at one of Vernon’s fat little gnomes, sitting in front of the flower baskets. 

The thought of Snape made Harry so angry that his stomach burned as though someone had dropped a hot coal into it. Harry had made many changes in his attitude and overall lifestyle since the death of Sirius, but he had not yet let go of his contempt for the vindictive Potions Master. 

This was because he knew that Snape would not change. He would always be nothing but a nasty, bitter, old man who was angry because he was alone in the world. As Harry had mulled over the events of fifth year, he had found that he hated Snape, more than even the Dursleys. He was used to their treatment of him; somehow, it didn’t seem quite as bad as what Snape had done to him. 

No matter how many times the annoying little voice in the back of Harry’s head told him that he was the one in the wrong, that he should have just listened to Snape, trusted Snape, and that everything might have then been different, Harry couldn’t stop placing some of the blame on him. If he had really wanted to save Sirius, he would have tried harder. But no, he couldn’t possibly have come up with some way of showing Harry that he knew what he meant, couldn’t have come up with some way to get Harry out of Umbridge’s office so that he could help? No, of course not. In Harry’s mind, he hadn’t tried, because he wanted Sirius to die. He had wanted it in third year, and he had wanted it then. And he’d got it. He’d got what he wanted, damn him. 

This is what Harry had been telling himself he was angry about for the past month, yet he hadn’t been convincing enough as to believe that he blamed Snape entirely. He’d played a role in the tragedy, but in all honesty, it hadn’t been the central one- Harry had filled that position. Nevertheless, if he could keep himself from self-hatred by telling himself that he blamed Snape, then he would. 

xxx

Severus watched the boy sitting sullenly on the bench, and wondered if he was right in guessing that the reason for Potter’s sudden outburst was himself. He shook his head. If Potter allowed him to anger him that much, then he was weak. If he hated Snape that much, then he shouldn’t waste so much energy on him. Severus allowed himself a smirk at the boy’s stupidity, but it soon changed to a dark frown. Three big boys were headed into the back yard, and they didn’t look like they wanted to have a friendly conversation with Potter. They looked like they wanted to do just the opposite.

Severus leaned forward. What was he supposed to do if these boys started to pick on Potter? He was only supposed to interfere if he was in danger, but did this count? 

xxx

Hearing the snap of a twig under a descending foot, Harry looked around quickly to see Dudley and two of his friends marching towards him. This couldn’t mean anything good for Harry- it never did.  

Harry’s first thought was to pull out his wand. He would love a reason to hurt them after everything they had done to him, and he wasn’t even sure if he would get in trouble for it. 

But then he remembered his resolution not to do anything impulsive. If he did any more illegal magic, he would surely be expelled from Hogwarts. He couldn’t risk such a thing; he needed to finish his schooling, and if he was forced to remain with the Dursleys for the duration of the year, he feared it would be the end of him… or them. The hand that was slowly making its way towards his wand pocket pulled back to his side. 

He decided his best option was simply to keep them talking long enough, and Dudley would probably get cold feet and lead them off somewhere else. 

He stood up and turned to face them, looking more confident than he really felt. 

“What, did you guys run out of people to beat up down at the crèche’?” He said tauntingly. 

The two boys were glowering at him, and Dudley was watching the scene apprehensively, as though he were torn between anger and worry- worry that Harry would pull out his wand and strike back if they actually did anything. Still, he remained silent, and the largest of the boys stepped forward. 

“Actually,” the towering boy started complacently. “We were thinking it’s been far too long since we last hung out. Remember what it used to be like in the old days? Before you were sent off to St. Brutus’s?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, smirking, “I remember, back before the center for incurably criminal boys. I miss the days when I didn’t have to go to a hearing to be allowed on summer holidays. The jury almost wouldn’t let me go, but then I pointed out that I was really only doing them a favor when I put that one kid in a coma with the shoelace off my shoe. He never shut up,” Harry said, looking as though he were thinking fondly of the memory of beating someone up with a shoelace. For once, Harry was glad that Uncle Vernon had told everyone that he was going to that school. 

The boys looked slightly fazed, but they quickly recovered. The blonde one quickly grabbed Harry by the back of his shirt before he could bolt, and the big one stepped around to get into his face. 

“What have you got planned now, huh?” He mocked Harry. “Going to bleed me with your sock?” 

“Thanks for the idea,” Harry gasped, feet dangling off the ground. 

It was a good thing that Dudley finally thought of an excuse to leave, because the two boys looked as though they were ready to have the time of their life brutalizing Harry for his cheek. 

“Hey, you guys,” Dudley suddenly hollered. “That Robert kid down the street just got a new bike, and he just left it outside unguarded. We can come back later,” Dudley said authoritatively, glancing at Harry. After a moment of hesitation, the two boys released Harry, giving him one more disgusted look before begrudgingly following Dudley out of the backyard and down the street. 

The moment they had left, something happened that Harry never anticipated. 

“Lovely display, Potter, really,” said a cold voice from behind. Harry whirled around. Draco Malfoy was tugging an invisibility cloak off himself. He smirked at Harry’s bemused expression as he took a few swaggering steps forward. “Tell me, do you always keep cool in situations like that, or do you occasionally come up with a plan that’ll actually work?” He paused to sneer at Harry’s overlarge clothes, which he’d apparently only then noticed. “You should have taken my advice at the beginning of first year, Potter. I could have helped you come up with a few better strategies than that one.” 

“What do you want, Malfoy?” Harry said, jaws locked and clear green eyes focused warily on his potential opponent. Abandoning rationalization, he drew his wand. Malfoy, however, hadn’t drawn his.

“What all of us want, Potter; power, fame, fortune, and someone to lie down with at the end of the day,” Malfoy said, in a sarcastically dreamy tone that perfectly matched the fake look of wistfulness on his face. “No, Potter, actually,” he said, dropping the mock attitude and folding his hands in front of him. “I came to do something for you. You want to get out of here, Potter.” He said. It wasn’t at all a question.  

Harry held his wand wearily in front of him. “Why?” He said suspiciously. 

“Does it matter why?” Malfoy asked, eyebrows raised. “It should serve to tell you that if you don’t leave, you and your relatives are in danger. So hop on your broom, hail the knight bus, doesn’t matter, just get out.” He smirked at Harry for a second. “You think this is a trap,” he said coolly. 

“Am I wrong?” Harry said, knowing full well that Malfoy wouldn’t tell him, even if he was. 

Malfoy shrugged. “What do you think? How would it benefit me to lead you into a trap?” He paused to smirk, and started again before Harry could answer. “I’m just giving you a warning, Potter, you can take it or leave it.” 

“How does it benefit you to warn me?” Harry said, growing frustrated at Malfoy’s cool front. 

“Potter,” Malfoy said, rolling his eyes. “If you die, the whole Wizarding world goes with you. We both know that. Now, while my father and others are convinced that if they are on the Dark Lord’s side, they will prevail, I don’t see the point in living a life of servitude. I’d really prefer to make a little more of myself than a common minion, so if you would mind not dying, it would be great,” he finished his sentence with a definite bite to his tone, and then turned to gather the few things he had with him. 

“I thought you hated me,” Harry said, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“Oh, I do,” Malfoy said reassuringly, whipping around. “More than almost anyone. But not because the Dark Lord went and got himself nearly killed by you when you were an infant, oh no. I hate you, one because you are a Gryffindor, two because you are a dandy, and three, because no one,” he paused and narrowed his eyes, “is fool enough to mess with a Malfoy, and if you’re offered the opportunity to join one, you don’t turn it down. Believe me, I told you that I would make you pay for putting my father in Azkaban, but it’s not going to be in the way you think.” He considered Harry for a moment, lip curled, before mounting his broom. “Apparation test in five weeks,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “So sick of flying everywhere.” And with that, he covered himself in the invisibility cloak again, and took off. 

xxx

AN: I promise this sudden appearance of Draco Malfoy isn’t as random as it seems. 

Well, as my old readers know, I started this before HBP and had already outlined it when the book came out. I have discovered a few similarities, but I’m keeping them as I had already planned this before. If I continue to write, which I am still contemplating, I plan to write this as though HBP never happened, difficult though that may be to do. 


	2. The Watcher

Chapter 2

The Watcher 

Harry could hardly believe the difficult situation he was now facing. If what Malfoy had said was true, then he didn’t have time to owl anyone. The message would never get there in time, and he couldn’t include all the necessary information, since it could be intercepted. The option of floo powder was out, too. There was no guarantee that the network wasn’t being watched, by the ministry or others. 

The order was still keeping itself a secret from the ministry. There was no telling whom you could trust anymore, and they couldn’t chance giving up the only source of secrecy they still had. If the ministry became corrupted once more, then the Order of the Phoenix and its members were the only real defense left against Voldemort.  

Harry would have given anything to be able to speak to whichever wizard or witch was in Little Whinging at the moment – they might not even know what had just happened. Was it possible that they didn’t even believe Malfoy, and weren’t going to do anything? Or maybe they had already gone for help, but would they get there in time? Harry looked around quickly, as if expecting to see a robe-clad stranger striding towards him at any moment. 

A wave of resentment came over Harry. These were the exact situations he was supposed to stay cool in, keep his head. This was the sort of time when he was supposed to sit back and let the adults handle everything, listen to instructions, and do what he was told. But where were the adults in times like these? Well Harry didn’t know, did he? And why? Because no one ever told him anything! No one ever bothered to let him know what was going on, tell him what to do in these situations, or inform him of the steps they were taking. Harry was tempted to do something rash and impulsive just to irritate them, to punish them, to prove his point… or… just to get them to show up. 

An idea suddenly came to Harry. An idea that would get him what he wanted, but not hurt. And if it didn’t work, then he would at least know that he was on his own, and then he could try and figure out what to do next. 

Harry spun around, and threw his arms into the air. 

“What now, huh?” he yelled. He would be as vague as possible, so that no one within earshot would think anything more than that he was going mad. “What am I supposed to do?! I had better get some answers, and I had better get them soon, because if I don’t—” 

A hand had been clapped over his mouth, or, at least, he thought it was a hand. The trouble was that he couldn’t see what had been clapped over his mouth; it must have been invisible. Harry’s eyes darted around frantically. He suddenly realized, as he thought to reach for his wand, that he was also being held. His mind started into a mode of panic, but he quickly realized (or got a vague idea of) what was going on when a familiar low voice spoke in his ear. 

“If I let go of you, do you promise not to make a sound?” 

Harry nodded wordlessly. 

“You will go into the house, and I will follow. Then—” the voice became deeper and more threatening. “We’ll have a little chat.”

It was like a pail of ice-cold water to the face as Harry came to the stomach-turning comprehension of to whom the voice belonged. He walked, legs slightly trembling, into the house, and was displeased to find the Dursleys sitting around watching the television. They looked at him dumbly for a moment, and Harry knew his guard had arrived when their faces paled slightly.

Harry didn’t have to turn around to know that Severus Snape was standing there, now completely visible. And he was indeed; Snape stepped around Harry towards the Dursleys. 

“I am Professor Snape,” he said, extending his hand. “A teacher at Hogwarts.” 

But Uncle Vernon didn’t shake hands; he only glared at him. Snape pulled his hand away, and Vernon stood up. He looked as though he would very much like to shout at Snape to leave, and tell him off for coming in the first place. All he managed, though, due to Snape’s seemingly irascible proclivity, was a very snappish, “Yes?” 

Snape’s eyebrows lifted, he clearly hadn’t been expecting such a reply. He quickly met Vernon’s rude disposition, however, by narrowing his eyes and glaring down at him. 

“I need a word with Potter, privately. So if you could excuse yourselves,” said Snape abruptly, motioning towards the door. 

“This is my house,” Vernon started, a defiant scowl spread across his overlarge face. “I’ll not be excusing myself from my own room.”

Snape raised an eyebrow, and said, “It really wasn’t a request.” 

Dudley was slowly edging out of the room, noticeably trembling as he did so. 

Snape looked in annoyance at the large boy cowering in fear, and then went on. “Mind you, if I want you to do something, you will. The only choice you have is whether or not you do so on your own terms.”  

Harry would have thought this appallingly rude if it had not been for the fact that these were the Dursleys. Vernon’s face was turning a deep shade of magenta, and Petunia’s thin lips were pursed so tightly that they almost looked permanently stuck together. Snape’s threatening presence and subtle threat seemed to overpower their desire to do anything more than glare nastily, however, so after a moment of bitter consideration, they angrily picked up and left, leaving Harry and Snape alone. 

Snape closed the door after them with a harsh flick of his wand, and proceeded to close the blinds on the windows and place silencing wards all around the room in the same manner. He had obviously really meant “privately,” when he’d said it. 

When he seemed satisfied that there would be no uninvited guests eavesdropping on the conversation, he turned his attention back to Harry. 

“Sit,” he said, pointing to a chair. Harry did as he was told. 

“Well Potter, are you happy?” Snape said icily. Harry stayed silent. 

“You don’t have any idea how much trouble that caused, do you?” he asked with a sneer, shaking his head. Still, Harry remained silent. 

Snape seemed to take Harry’s silence as a no, and went on. “No, I’d thought not. Did it occur to you that there was a reason no one had yet shown up? You see, that’s the problem with you, Potter. In your ignorance, you fail to see any reasoning other than your own.” 

Harry was literally biting his tongue in order to distract himself from Snape’s unjust chastisement with the pain in his mouth. He _had_ tried to see other reasoning; he’d stayed where he was, hadn’t he? In fact, Harry felt he’d been quite clever to force someone to come to him, rather than wait around like a sitting duck. 

“You may not be concerned with this, Potter,” Snape continued spitefully. “Undoubtedly you feel you’re worth the risk…” His lip curled unpleasantly as he gave Harry a contemptuous once-over. “But you put the entire Order, and especially my position, at stake. Should the Dark Lord find out that you are being guarded at all times, he will use that to his advantage, especially,” Snape paused and emphasized his next point. “If he finds out that Dumbledore trusts me with you. Right now, all he knows about you, in relation to me, is that I am your teacher. The Headmaster and I have purposely led him to believe that Dumbledore trusts no one with you, least of all myself,” Snape finished. 

Had someone else been lecturing him, these words might have made Harry feel guilty. As Snape was the one saying them, however, he could hardly feel anything different from explicit antipathy- until a small voice in the back of his head spoke up. _If you had considered the risks you were taking before, it said, then Sirius might not have died…_   

“What would Vol- _he,_ do if he found out?” Harry asked, biting his lip at his previous thought.  

Snape looked at him for a moment, seemingly debating whether or not he should tell him. After a moment of indecision, he seemed to have made up his mind.  

“There are several possibilities,” he started out in an annoyed tone. “One, he could, through further examination, find out that I am really working for the Order. Best case scenario, he would kill me.” 

Harry raised his eyebrows, then frowned. “Best?” 

Snape rolled his eyes. “Yes, Potter, best,” he muttered, seemingly annoyed at having to elaborate. “Otherwise, he might feed me false information, which would in time allow him to destroy the Order from the inside out.

“Secondly, he might ask me to help him kill you,” Snape said. 

Harry knew he was pressing his luck, because he was sure that the blow had not yet fallen; Snape was simply sidetracked. But as long as Harry had that advantage…

“And what would you do then, sir?” Harry asked. He knew this was a risky question to ask, but if Snape answered it, he might be a little more prepared. 

Snape looked up at him, eyes glinting indistinctly, expression inscrutable. 

Harry wished he would answer, or look away. Something about the unreadable look on Snape’s face was disquieting; Harry was unable to tell what was going on behind those dark eyes, behind the face that gave away nothing. 

“Why do you want to know?” inquired Snape. 

An unexpected question. Harry struggled to find the words for what he was thinking. He knew that Snape wouldn’t answer his questions if he didn’t answer Snape’s. Finally, he figured out exactly what to say. 

“I need to know if I can trust you,” Harry said slowly, unsure of the reaction he would receive. 

Snape raised his eyebrows, then lowered them and said irritably, “I’m working against the Dark Lord, Potter, so as contrary to this as it may seem, I would not help him kill you.” 

“Even if that meant he would kill you?” Harry pressed, maintaining his expression of disbelief. 

“Yes,” Snape replied hesitantly, looking as though he’d rather not admit it. 

“However, just because I would make that sacrifice, doesn’t mean I want to,” Snape started, regaining the dangerous tone he’d had earlier. “How many times must we go through this, Potter? Are you ever going to learn the concept of following rules?” 

He paused, and then said with a rather derisive bite to his tone, “Sometimes, I wonder if the reason you never use your head is that nothing is in it.” 

The lecture continued. “You think nothing of consideration for others, the rules and whom you affect by breaking them. As long as things go the way you want them to, whom you hurt in the process of getting there doesn’t matter. It’s the same reckless ignorance that drove your father and his idiot followers to death and despair. But you don’t care, do you? Because you’re Harry bloody Potter, you lead such a hard life, so you deserve the Order’s undivided attention, you deserve to have people fawn over you and cater to your every need. You’ve spent so much time trying to get people to stop fussing over you, but now that they finally have, you want that back. You’re like a petty schoolgirl fishing for compliments. You—” 

“That’s enough!” Harry yelled, getting to his feet. Snape’s pale face was but inches from his own; Harry could see every hard line of his face pulled into a deadly glare, but it did nothing to hold him back; his temper had reached its boiling point. 

“I’m so sick of you acting like I’m so horrible, like I don’t care for anyone but myself!” Harry yelled straight into his face. “You don’t know how far from the truth that is! And as for getting on my case about breaking rules, I don’t see where you have any room to talk! At least when I break them, it’s usually for a good reason! But you, should I really be listening to lectures about right and wrong from a Death Eater?!” 

The moment the words had escaped his lips, Harry knew he’d made a very big mistake. his eyes widened slightly, and he drew back, awaiting his Professor’s reaction. Part of him was worried; after all, the doors were locked- he had nowhere to bolt if Snape responded to his defiance with the same amount of fury he had the previous year… 

There were a few moments of deadly silence in which Snape seemed to be deciding exactly what to do; his teeth were clenched so tightly that Harry could hear the sickening grinding sound they were making from inside his mouth. 

“You really want to talk about pasts, Potter?” he finally hissed spitefully. He didn’t need to say anymore to strike a nerve, and he knew it. A small, triumphant smirk crept onto his face; his dark, cold eyes glittered malevolently. 

Harry glared at him, dying to retort- he could point out the fact that the only reason his past had been so miserable was the lowlifes who had nothing better to make of themselves than gratuitous minions to Voldemort, desperate for some sense of power to compensate for their cowardice. He bit back on these words, however, and remained silent. He didn’t think he could handle another one of the man’s tirades, chalked full of insults to him and his family- or what would have been his family…

“That’s what I thought,” Snape said with a self-satisfied nod of his head. He lifted the silencing charms and stepped towards the door. 

“Someone will be here to collect you soon. Until then, _stay here_.” With one last dark glance at Harry, he redissolusioned himself and disappeared from sight, the door slowly closing behind him. 

xxx End Chapter 2 xxx 


End file.
